Storytime! Yay!
Im having a problem with my blender. It all started when I was watching Goonies one night very drunk. Now, those of you that know me know that while Im drinking, Im prone to what could politely be called lapses in judgment. It could impolitely be called being a total fucking retard, but thats not the point. The point is that I made an unwise decision. Remember the scene where the Fratellis are interrogating Chunk and they threaten to stick his hand in the blender? Well, I looked over at my good buddy Jeff and said Know what? I bet a blender couldnt really fuck up your hand all that bad. Ill bet your bones would jam the motor and it would burn it out.
Jeff, also soused, said What the fuck are you talking about? Of course it would fuck up your hand!
Bah. Humbug. Ill bet those blades couldnt even cut through paper., came my retort.
Fuck, dude! If you touch the blade in the thing, Ill bet it would lop your finger right off! Those things are razor sharp! They can cut through titanium steel wrapped in Kevlar! Thats how sharp they are!
Bullshit.
Without another word, Jeffrey stood up and walked into the kitchen. (When I say without another word, I mean without another English word. He basically slurred out a bunch of drunken mumbling which equated to Mutherfuggin.. Sumbitchilltellyoufugginloozyer whole fuggin handfuggin blender. Only slightly less coherent.) When he came back, he was holding the blender. Stick your hand in there bitch, and dont forget to take your finger out with you, cause it wont be attached to your hand much longer! he commanded me.
Tentatively, I reached my hand in to the blender and gently ran my finger along the blade.
At least, thats what I should have done.
What I actually did was jam my hand into the blender and grab the blades with my whole hand. Then I squeezed. Hard. I pulled my hand out and showed him. How many fingers do YOU count, mother fucker? I count five! Thatll show you to fuck with m-
It suddenly occurred to me that my hand hurt. Very soon after, I realized that an awful lot of blood was outside my hand, and not inside, where it should be. I ran to the sink and washed my hand off, and carefully wrapped it in gauze before calling a cab to take me to the hospital to have a doctor check to see if I needed stitches. At least, thats what I should have done. What I actually did was punch my roommate in the arm before grabbing the closest dish towel and wiping my hand off on it. I then took the blender into the kitchen to wash it. I rinsed it off, and ran it through the dishwasher. But it was already too late.
My blender had tasted blood.
And it wanted more.
I woke up in the morning, and found my blender next to my head and not in the dishwasher, where I had left it. Immediately I realized something was wrong. I called a paranormal specialist and had him examine the blender for abnormally high EKG readings.
At least, thats what I should have done.
What I actually did was put it away in the cabinet and went about my day. As I arrived at work, I was attacked by a lemur on my way into the building. It jumped on my head and dug its claws into my face. I would have fought back, but I thought they were an endangered species. Turns out they arent, but we all make mistakes. I sat down at my desk and my boss walked up to me and told me to take my hat off. Its not a hat, Roz, its a lemur.
Well then take your lemur off. Fuckin buzzard.
My boss is a fifty year old black woman who is an ex-marine and war veteran. And I dont know why, but I love it when she calls me a buzzard. I should have known better than to talk back to this woman. On more than one occasion, Ive almost had my head knocked clean off when her shoe came sailing through the air at me when I talked back to her. She reminds me of my mom that way. But as has been noted on many an occasion, I dont keep my mouth shut, especially when I should. Its an endangered species, Roz. If I take it off Ill theyll send me to jail.
Who will? She asked
I dunno them, I guess. I said.
Well, Ill tell you what, boy. If you dont take it off, Illsend you to your Maker. Sound good?
Sheepishly, I said, No, I guess not. And set to prying the lemur from my skull.
After the little fucker finally came loose, I put my headset on and waited for a call to come through. It wasnt long before I heard the familiar beep that alerts me of an incoming call, and the recording that tells me where the call is coming from. *BEEP* Newark, Delaware.
This is Dod Raibeid in the Online Division, how can I-
I stopped. I thought the line was just white noise. Then I heard it. The distinct whirring of a small motor running. Not unlike one on a household appliance. An electric egg beater, or a food processor, or a blender. Hello? I said, Hellooo? I waited the required two minutes and thirteen seconds and when I didnt hear a human voice, I disconnected the call. Two more times it happened. Id expect a human voice on the other end of the line, only to hear the terrible whirring. The third time it happened, I could swear I heard a voice deep within the whirring sound. I thought I heard it repeating one word over and over. Bud. Or flood. Or
Blood
As I walked across the parking lot to my car, I thought I heard glass scraping on the concrete behind me. I looked, and nothing was there. When I got into my car, I jumped. Someone had scrawled something across my windshieldI will have your soul. It was written in milkshake. Strawberry.
I leapt from the car, and ran back into the building and called the police. I told them that someone was writing death threats in ice cream drinks on my Volvo.
At least, thats what I should have done.
What I actually did was squirt some washer fluid on the windshield, wipe off the message and drive home. When I got there, I threw my keys on the couch, and sat down to watch an episode of Dead Like Me. It was the one where the gravelings took the day off and were playing cards in Der Waffle House. The one graveling cheated and the other graveling punched him in the face. Gravelings are funny. They make me laugh. As I chuckled to myself about the hysterical slapstick antics of those crazy gravelings, I walked into the kitchen to grab a beer. The blender was on the counter. There was a pink residue running down the side that was collecting in a pool on the counter. It wasnt plugged in. I grabbed the blender, took it outside and smashed it into a thousand pieces. Then I put the pieces in a bag, got in my car, drove to Canada, and buried the blender, piece by piece, in various locations all across the thirteen provinces.
At least, thats what I should have done.
What I actually did was curse Jeff for leaving the blender out after using it to make whirlpools in his Pepto Bismol, and grab a beer from the fridge. Jeff wasnt given to this type of activity, but it seemed like the only reasonable explanation at the time. I sat back down on the couch and continued to lose myself in the adventures of George, Rube and the rest of the gang on Dead Like Me. I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, all of the lights were off, and the TV had been turned off, as well. I stumbled around for the light switch. I groped across the wall, and my hand made contact. The minute I did, I heard the same unholy whirring that I heard earlier on the phone, only this time it was accompanied by a horrible grating and cracking noise. I looked for the source, and there, on the coffee table was the blender. Upon closer examination, I saw, to my horror, that it was trying to puree a cross. I picked up the phone and called the nearest Catholic Church. I told the priest that my blender was possessed, and to please send an exorcist.
At least, thats what I should have done.
What I actually did was yank the plug out of the wall, and put the blender away. Then I went off to bed. That night, I dreamt of a gigantic lemur drinking a strawberry milkshake. When he saw me, he took off a shoe and threw it at my head. Then he began to choke me. I tried to scream, but, well, he was choking me. So of course I couldnt. I woke up unable to breathe. I frantically reached for the light by my bed, but ended up knocking it over. Whatever was cutting off my air was getting tighter. I finally righted the lamp and turned it on. My blender was on my nightstand. Its cord was wrapped around my neck. I grabbed the scissors from the drawer and worked them in between my neck and the cord. I freed myself from its death grip. That was last night. Tomorrow Im going to give notice at my job and move to somewhere exotic. And Ill leave the blender here.
At least, thats what I should do
Im having a problem with my blender. It all started when I was watching Goonies one night very drunk. Now, those of you that know me know that while Im drinking, Im prone to what could politely be called lapses in judgment. It could impolitely be called being a total fucking retard, but thats not the point. The point is that I made an unwise decision. Remember the scene where the Fratellis are interrogating Chunk and they threaten to stick his hand in the blender? Well, I looked over at my good buddy Jeff and said Know what? I bet a blender couldnt really fuck up your hand all that bad. Ill bet your bones would jam the motor and it would burn it out.
Jeff, also soused, said What the fuck are you talking about? Of course it would fuck up your hand!
Bah. Humbug. Ill bet those blades couldnt even cut through paper., came my retort.
Fuck, dude! If you touch the blade in the thing, Ill bet it would lop your finger right off! Those things are razor sharp! They can cut through titanium steel wrapped in Kevlar! Thats how sharp they are!
Bullshit.
Without another word, Jeffrey stood up and walked into the kitchen. (When I say without another word, I mean without another English word. He basically slurred out a bunch of drunken mumbling which equated to Mutherfuggin.. Sumbitchilltellyoufugginloozyer whole fuggin handfuggin blender. Only slightly less coherent.) When he came back, he was holding the blender. Stick your hand in there bitch, and dont forget to take your finger out with you, cause it wont be attached to your hand much longer! he commanded me.
Tentatively, I reached my hand in to the blender and gently ran my finger along the blade.
At least, thats what I should have done.
What I actually did was jam my hand into the blender and grab the blades with my whole hand. Then I squeezed. Hard. I pulled my hand out and showed him. How many fingers do YOU count, mother fucker? I count five! Thatll show you to fuck with m-
It suddenly occurred to me that my hand hurt. Very soon after, I realized that an awful lot of blood was outside my hand, and not inside, where it should be. I ran to the sink and washed my hand off, and carefully wrapped it in gauze before calling a cab to take me to the hospital to have a doctor check to see if I needed stitches. At least, thats what I should have done. What I actually did was punch my roommate in the arm before grabbing the closest dish towel and wiping my hand off on it. I then took the blender into the kitchen to wash it. I rinsed it off, and ran it through the dishwasher. But it was already too late.
My blender had tasted blood.
And it wanted more.
I woke up in the morning, and found my blender next to my head and not in the dishwasher, where I had left it. Immediately I realized something was wrong. I called a paranormal specialist and had him examine the blender for abnormally high EKG readings.
At least, thats what I should have done.
What I actually did was put it away in the cabinet and went about my day. As I arrived at work, I was attacked by a lemur on my way into the building. It jumped on my head and dug its claws into my face. I would have fought back, but I thought they were an endangered species. Turns out they arent, but we all make mistakes. I sat down at my desk and my boss walked up to me and told me to take my hat off. Its not a hat, Roz, its a lemur.
Well then take your lemur off. Fuckin buzzard.
My boss is a fifty year old black woman who is an ex-marine and war veteran. And I dont know why, but I love it when she calls me a buzzard. I should have known better than to talk back to this woman. On more than one occasion, Ive almost had my head knocked clean off when her shoe came sailing through the air at me when I talked back to her. She reminds me of my mom that way. But as has been noted on many an occasion, I dont keep my mouth shut, especially when I should. Its an endangered species, Roz. If I take it off Ill theyll send me to jail.
Who will? She asked
I dunno them, I guess. I said.
Well, Ill tell you what, boy. If you dont take it off, Illsend you to your Maker. Sound good?
Sheepishly, I said, No, I guess not. And set to prying the lemur from my skull.
After the little fucker finally came loose, I put my headset on and waited for a call to come through. It wasnt long before I heard the familiar beep that alerts me of an incoming call, and the recording that tells me where the call is coming from. *BEEP* Newark, Delaware.
This is Dod Raibeid in the Online Division, how can I-
I stopped. I thought the line was just white noise. Then I heard it. The distinct whirring of a small motor running. Not unlike one on a household appliance. An electric egg beater, or a food processor, or a blender. Hello? I said, Hellooo? I waited the required two minutes and thirteen seconds and when I didnt hear a human voice, I disconnected the call. Two more times it happened. Id expect a human voice on the other end of the line, only to hear the terrible whirring. The third time it happened, I could swear I heard a voice deep within the whirring sound. I thought I heard it repeating one word over and over. Bud. Or flood. Or
Blood
As I walked across the parking lot to my car, I thought I heard glass scraping on the concrete behind me. I looked, and nothing was there. When I got into my car, I jumped. Someone had scrawled something across my windshieldI will have your soul. It was written in milkshake. Strawberry.
I leapt from the car, and ran back into the building and called the police. I told them that someone was writing death threats in ice cream drinks on my Volvo.
At least, thats what I should have done.
What I actually did was squirt some washer fluid on the windshield, wipe off the message and drive home. When I got there, I threw my keys on the couch, and sat down to watch an episode of Dead Like Me. It was the one where the gravelings took the day off and were playing cards in Der Waffle House. The one graveling cheated and the other graveling punched him in the face. Gravelings are funny. They make me laugh. As I chuckled to myself about the hysterical slapstick antics of those crazy gravelings, I walked into the kitchen to grab a beer. The blender was on the counter. There was a pink residue running down the side that was collecting in a pool on the counter. It wasnt plugged in. I grabbed the blender, took it outside and smashed it into a thousand pieces. Then I put the pieces in a bag, got in my car, drove to Canada, and buried the blender, piece by piece, in various locations all across the thirteen provinces.
At least, thats what I should have done.
What I actually did was curse Jeff for leaving the blender out after using it to make whirlpools in his Pepto Bismol, and grab a beer from the fridge. Jeff wasnt given to this type of activity, but it seemed like the only reasonable explanation at the time. I sat back down on the couch and continued to lose myself in the adventures of George, Rube and the rest of the gang on Dead Like Me. I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, all of the lights were off, and the TV had been turned off, as well. I stumbled around for the light switch. I groped across the wall, and my hand made contact. The minute I did, I heard the same unholy whirring that I heard earlier on the phone, only this time it was accompanied by a horrible grating and cracking noise. I looked for the source, and there, on the coffee table was the blender. Upon closer examination, I saw, to my horror, that it was trying to puree a cross. I picked up the phone and called the nearest Catholic Church. I told the priest that my blender was possessed, and to please send an exorcist.
At least, thats what I should have done.
What I actually did was yank the plug out of the wall, and put the blender away. Then I went off to bed. That night, I dreamt of a gigantic lemur drinking a strawberry milkshake. When he saw me, he took off a shoe and threw it at my head. Then he began to choke me. I tried to scream, but, well, he was choking me. So of course I couldnt. I woke up unable to breathe. I frantically reached for the light by my bed, but ended up knocking it over. Whatever was cutting off my air was getting tighter. I finally righted the lamp and turned it on. My blender was on my nightstand. Its cord was wrapped around my neck. I grabbed the scissors from the drawer and worked them in between my neck and the cord. I freed myself from its death grip. That was last night. Tomorrow Im going to give notice at my job and move to somewhere exotic. And Ill leave the blender here.
At least, thats what I should do
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
At least, that's what I should have done...
What I actually did was...try to contain my laughter enough so that it wouldn't wake my roommate who is trying to sleep before his midterm tomorrow. Nice.